Hey, teenage girls: no "over the counter" Plan B abortion pills for you, okay? You're 16, for christ's sake. Sixteen years old. What the hell... what the hell do you need with this crap? Why would you need this stuff? Chad? Is it because of that boy Chad? What the hell have you been doing? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.

Do you work the night shift? Yes, you'll be getting diabetes. The only question is when, and how devastating it will be to your blood sugar and, later, your sex life. Might as well get it out of the way early, I say. Then die.

News flash from the top science minds of a generation: presidents live longer than average guys who are not president. That's right—having around the clock access to unlimited free health care from America's finest doctors tends to prolong one's life. As if that's not enough, in the White House you can get all the free peanut butter sandwiches you want, with one phone call. Elvis liked peanut butter sandwiches with bacon.

Some scientists are now rethinking the most popular treatment for breast cancer, sending money to the preacher man on television. Does the preacher man on television make your breasts feel better, or worse? Include a description in your letter to him.

There's a new therapy for people with Parkinson's: dancing. And there's a new therapy for people who once appeared on "So You Think You Can Dance" and then they won't stop talking about it for years after that: getting beat up, and because of that they get Parkinson's.

If you run marathons, you could do permanent damage to your heart. Of course, if you don't run marathons, you have to give up the pleasure of gasping through hours of pain and vomit until you drag yourself across the finish line and literally die, of an exploding heart, as someone hands you a "participant" ribbon, which will fit easily in your coffin due to your frail, bird-like runner's physique. Life is full of choices.